Wednesday, March 16, 2016

the race

the race
by troy cady

It is as if
we said,
“Can we join
you for your jog
in the cemetery?
Let us run with you
in circles on the narrow paths.
We will obey the small stop signs,
bright and new. Lead us.”

And when we wanted to leave
we found the gates chained
and the walls too high to scale.

And now it is as if
we have no one but ourselves here
with nothing to drink
but acid rain
collected in old cones
containing rotted flowers
and nothing to eat
but the corpses
of the souls we killed
in our fervor
running the race.

Let us rest in peace.

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